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Sunday was a whirlwind of non-stop commotion, and Alex loved every minute of it. The day began with Mass at Our Lady of the Roses Church. Though Alex had been saying the prayers all of her life, she found herself stumbling over them as she tried to whisper them in English along with the Italian voices. The Homily, though said by a lively and invigorating young priest, was completely lost on her, and she found herself daydreaming about Isa. Where had she sat? Was there an inscription on a window dedicated to her family like in so many of the American churches? Had she sung in the choir? Knelt along that same Communion rail for her First Eucharist? Looking around the church, the thoughts swirling in her mind, Alex felt almost dizzy. Standing beside Nicolas didn’t help, especially when she caught Evangelina’s dagger-like stare and turned to see the woman giving her a look that had no place in the holy building.
After Mass, Nicolas introduced Alex to Father Rulli who welcomed her to the parish. He even offered to give her a copy of his Homily, translated into English. Alex blushed and wondered if he knew that her mind was elsewhere while he was at the pulpit. Their conversation was interrupted by Giovanni, Adrianna, and baby Marco, followed by Luigi, Maria, and a man introduced to Alex as Pietro. After many air kisses, the group headed toward their cars to leave for Giovanni and Adrianna’s house for dinner.
Alex, who was riding with Nicolas, waited patiently by the car while he said goodbye to Eva. She watched the exchange with interest, noting the sparks that flew, and wished she could hear and understand what they were saying. After a few minutes, Eva turned to look at Alex and shot her a smile that could freeze water. Alex returned a half-hearted smile as Nicolas attempted to give Eva a hug and kiss that were rebuffed when Eva simply turned her back on him and walked away. Alex averted her gaze and tried to hide her surprise.
“Is Eva joining us for dinner?” she asked casually as Nicolas opened the car door for her.
“No, she is busy,” was his curt reply. Alex bit her lip as she tried not to smile. The woman obviously didn’t like her, and Alex was so looking forward to the family meal. She was more than relieved that Eva’s stare and rudeness would not put a damper on the event.
“Why did you never even mention Pietro to me?” Alex asked Maria as they put together the antipasti, a nice mixture of cheese and sausages wrapped in pancetta and called bocconcini fritti. Adrianna’s seafood sauté filled the kitchen with a heavenly aroma as they worked.
Maria blushed. “It is new. I was still deciding if I liked him.” They both laughed, and Adrianna teased them about keeping on task.
Though baby Marco was the only child at the table, the room was filled with noise as they ate – conversation, laughter, teasing, and ridicule filled the room. They tried to speak in English or translate for Alex, but she felt guilty that they had to do so and tried to keep up with the stories they told in their rushed voices. She reminded herself that she had only been in Italy just over a week, even though it already seemed as if she had been there for years. The language would come in time, but she was impatient to feel like a part of this wonderful family she had suddenly inherited. And that’s when it hit her. Signora hadn’t left her a vineyard. She had left her a family. Alex beamed as she watched her new family interact and silently thanked Signora for giving her just what she needed the most.
That evening, Alex floated down the stairs in her comfy shorts and t-shirt and settled onto the couch. She had never felt so content in her life. Nicolas had also changed into shorts and a t-shirt and waited for her in the living room, the soggiorno. He looked at her curiously as he entered the room.
“What?” she asked.
“You look, different,” he said after a moment.
“I don’t know why,” she said casually. “Maybe I’m just worn out after a whole day with the Giordano/Minnelli family.”
“No,” he said as he joined her on the couch and reached for the journal on the table in front of them. “You do not look tired. You look happy, very happy. I do not think I have seen you look truly happy since you arrived here.”
“I haven’t been truly happy for a very long time,” she confessed, and realized for the first time the truth in her statement. “I thought I was happy in college when I was with... my friends.” She shook her head, “But that was not happiness. I think it was complacency.” It occurred to Alex that Nicolas might not quite understand, not knowing any of her background. “I think that I was telling myself that I was happy, but I wasn’t, not really.”
“And being with my family makes you happy?” Nicolas asked. He wasn’t teasing, nor was he flirting or anything like it. Alex felt that he was genuinely curious about her feelings.
“Yes, it does. I can’t quite describe what it is, why it’s different from what I’ve felt before, but it feels good.” She turned to face him. “Thank you, Nicolas. Thank you for allowing me to stay and to be a part of this vineyard and your family.”
Nicolas smiled but did not say anything. He opened the journal and turned to the next entry.
––––––––
December 26, 1942
The war rages on. There has been heavy bombing in Southern Italy by the United States, but we continue to be spared. Father has been very quiet since Christmas Day. He stayed late after Mass and came home just before dinner, looking worried and, dare I say, old. He knows something that he is not saying. I do hope that he won’t have to go fight. So far, the older doctors have not had to go. They are necessary at home. I pray that is not going to change.
I have not seen Roberto since the dance, but I dream of him, and for now that is enough.
“Did her father go to war?” Alex asked.
“I do not know,” Nicolas answered thoughtfully, his expression one of puzzlement. “He is already very old in my memories. My family never talked very much about the War when I was growing up. I think they wanted to forget it. The men who did fight, like my grandfather, Isa’s brother, did not talk about what they saw.”
“I can understand why. My great-grandfather fought in the War. He was in France. He never spoke about it until the last few years of his life, and never around us children, just to our parents. From the bits I overheard, it was, as you said, something he wanted to forget.” She sighed and thought about her family, her real family. They had been happy once, a long time ago.
“Shall I go on?” Nicolas asked, breaking into her thoughts, and Alex nodded.
December 31, 1942
A note appeared today. I say appeared because I do not know how it got here. When I went to check on the animals, it was tacked to the barn door with my name on it. I do not know how he knew that I would be the first one out of the house and that I would go to the barn to begin my chores. I knew as soon as I saw it, even before I opened it, that it was from Roberto.
Under the writing, a faded and worn note was stuck to the page. What appeared to be Scotch tape was barely holding it into the book. Nicolas read it.
“Dear Isa, I must see you tonight. I must begin the new year with you. Please come to the barn at midnight. Yours, Roberto”
I can barely breathe. Do I dare sneak out? If Papà catches us, we will both be sent to our graves. I have never done anything so secretive, so bold. God in Heaven, forgive me. I know that I will go.
––––––––
January 1, 1943
Just before midnight, I tiptoed out of my room and down the hall. I was sure that Mamma and Papá could hear my heart beating in the silent night. He was waiting for me in the barn, and I rushed into his arms. Before I could speak, he held his finger to my lips, and I felt dizzy at the feel of his skin on such an intimate place. Shh, he told me, and he led me up the ladder and into the loft. A blanket was laid out, and my heart began to race. This was not what I wanted, not what I planned. I barely knew him. But he took my hand and turned my palm up, and kissed it. My stomach flipped, and my mind went blank. I didn’t even know I had closed my eyes until he said quietly, “Isa, look at me.” I opened my eyes and looked deeply into his. I drowned in them like they were a pool of warm chocolate. “I want to give you something,” he said as he led me to the blanket. I followed, though I knew I should not. I tried not to look into his eyes for I knew I would be lost. I expected him to do something, I didn’t know what, something I had only read about in the books my father forbade me from reading. “Happy new year,” Roberto said, and I turned to see him holding a small box. I took it with hesitation and opened it. Inside was a key. “It is the key to my heart,” Roberto said. “Keep it until I return.”
I was so confused. “Where are you going?” I asked. “To war,” he told me, and I shook my head. I knew I heard wrong. “To war?” I whispered. “Yes, my love, but I will be back,” he promised. And then he leaned in and kissed me. The kiss was chaste, pure, and beautiful. It was a kiss that will haunt my dreams, and tease me with its perfection, and leave me longing for more, like the last glimpse of the perfect sunset. When he leaned back, and I opened my eyes, I could still feel his lips on mine. “Wait for me,” he said. I nodded and watched as he stood and went down the ladder. I crawled to the edge and looked over. He stood on the floor of the barn and smiled up at me, and I tried to smile back.
A tear rolled down Alex’s cheek. Her heart was heavy with sadness and with dread. “She must have thought their love was over before it really began,” she said.
Nicolas did not answer. He reached over and wiped away the tear. “He promised to come back,” he said quietly looking into her eyes.
“Pools of chocolate,” she said, almost to her herself.
“Scuse?”
“Your eyes,” Alex said and then blushed. She looked away and pretended to yawn. “I’m dying to know what happened next, but I’m so tired. I think I will go to bed and dream about Roberto’s return.” She stood and gave Nicolas a sad smile. “Good night, Nicolas. Thank you for today.”
Nicolas watched Alex walk up the stairs and then looked back down at the journal in his lap. Nicolas was an educated man. He had read all of the ancient philosophers, Shakespeare, Dante, and contemporary Italian and American authors, but he had never read anything that moved him the way Isa’s writing had. He didn’t know if it was the words she used, the emotions they conveyed, or the sensual way she described her feelings. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was the fact that he was reading them to and with Alex that made him feel the way he did. He realized that sharing this intimate tale with Alex was going to be much harder than he had bargained.
During the next few days, Alex spent a lot of time learning about the wine business from both Nicolas and Maria. She was beginning to use more Italian words and phrases and had the computer system down pat. She was sure that growing up in a house with her brother, a computer genius, was a big help because she knew her way around the machine, and technology came easily to her. It was a trait that left most of her Fine Arts classmates envious.
The days were filled with learning, and the nights were filled with a restless longing that Alex couldn’t explain other than loneliness. Nicolas was quite willing to work with her in and around the vineyard, but he seemed to be avoiding her at night. He often came into the house after dinner but then retreated back to his office in the winery to do “work,” or he left the house, presumably to see Eva. Alex tried to figure out what she might have said or done to create this situation, when they seemed to be getting along so well, but she couldn’t find the root of the problem. Perhaps Nicolas had told Eva about the journal, and she didn’t like them reading it together. The journal lay on the table where they left it several days before, and Alex felt it calling out to her.
Over the course of the week, Alex confided in Maria about her family. Alex lost her mother on the day their family learned of her brother, Chad’s death. That was likely what compelled her to devote so much time and energy to Signora - that and the fact that she truly loved the older woman.
“It was a relationship that neither Sandra nor Patrick ever understood, but I can’t blame them,” she told Maria. “They had their own families, somewhere to go for holidays, someone with whom to reminisce about the past. They didn’t understand how it felt to have no one.”
“No one?” Maria asked. “You do not have family?”
“Not really,” Alex said with tears in her eyes. “My freshman year of college,” she hesitated and swallowed down the lump in her throat, “my brother was murdered.”
Maria gasped. “Murdered?”
“Yes,” Alex said. “He was the victim of a hit man who was chasing after Chad’s friend, Melissa. It’s a long story, but I’m sure all of the details are still all over the Internet if you really want to read about it.”
Alex wiped away a tear, and Maria gently laid her hand on Alex’s shoulder.
“When my father finally came out of mourning, I lost him in a car accident on our first family vacation since Chad’s death.”
Again, Maria gasped. “Oh, Alex, I am so sorry.”
Alex nodded as she struggled to maintain control over her emotions. “For some reason that I will never be able to explain, my mother blamed me. The vacation was my father’s attempt to put things back together again, but it only made things worse. Not that I’m blaming him,” Alex was quick to add. “My mother certainly didn’t. She blamed me.” Alex looked away and blinked. Her tone turned bitter as she shook her head and continued, “We were hit by a drink driver just before we made it back to Chicago. I’ll never understand why my mother crawled into her own cave after Chad’s death rather than embracing the child she still had, but I suppose that everyone grieves in their own way.” Alex shrugged and reached for a tissue to blow her nose.
“Chad’s friend, Melissa, reached out to me after the guy was caught who was chasing her, but I had no desire to become friends with her. Melissa has a new life of her own now, a fiancé, a Godmother she never knew existed, and a whole new life, according to the many articles and television interviews that I read online once I felt up to it. I guess that’s what happens. Life goes on.” Alex tried to smile.
“Si, life goes on. And now you have a new life, here with us.”
Maria leaned over and hugged Alex, and for the first time in a long time, Alex knew that she finally had a friend she could trust.
On Friday, the vineyard was a wave of energy as several cases of wine were distributed to restaurants and stores throughout the region. The tourist season was well underway, as were Evangelina’s plans for her celebrity welcome party. Nicolas was out the previous night and again that morning making sure that the party was well stocked with the best wines. He also took several fancy brochures about the vineyard that Alex insisted they print and casually place around the house and patio. Both Nicolas and Maria were impressed with her combination of computer skills and eye for design and thus gave her the task of updating all of their marketing materials.
It was close to noon when the door opened and a woman, perhaps in her sixties, entered. The woman was a stranger, but Alex caught her breath at the familiarity of her voice and the way she moved. Her face was so familiar that Alex was taken aback and wondered where she had seen her. The woman went directly to Alex with a wide, genuine smile and outstretched arms.
“Alex, mia bella, you must be Alex.” Before Alex could respond, she found herself wrapped in the woman’s arms.
“Yes, I am,” Alex said tentatively. “And you are?”
“No, please do not say he did not tell you I was coming.” She looked hurt, and Alex felt guilty for not knowing what was going on. At that moment, Maria walked into the room and squealed with delight. She ran to the woman and threw her arms around her.
“Zia Marta,” Maria exclaimed and gushed words of Italian that were too fast for Alex to follow.
“Oh, Alex, meet my Zia Marta, Nicolas’ mother,” Maria said as the woman beamed at them both as if they were all lifelong friends reunited after a long hiatus.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I should have known. You look so much...” Alex couldn’t say the words.
“Like my Zia Isabella,” Marta said, shaking her head. “Sì, I have been told my entire life how much I looked like her. My father often called me Isabella by mistake. I am sorry if seeing me has shocked you.”
Alex steadied herself and reached for the woman’s hand. “Just a bit, but I am so happy to meet you. Nicolas didn’t tell me that you were coming.”
“I do not know what he is thinking these days. He seems to be lost in thought each time I try to speak to him on the phone. I thought it would be best if I came up to check on him.”
“Zia Marta, you and Alex should take your bags to the house and visit for a while,” Maria suggested. “The men are all out making deliveries, and I can handle things here.”
“I would love that,” Marta said warmly as she laced her arm around Alex’s. “We have so much to talk about.”
As they made their way to the villa, Marta asked Alex about her trip from America and if she was finding the house and the climate comfortable. Alex found herself opening up to Marta for reasons she couldn’t explain, and before long, the entire story of her deception and the first few rough days in the house were tumbling out of her. Rather than judging, Marta laughed and absorbed every little detail as if it were a pastry crumb. Alex felt terrible that she had never even asked Nicolas about his own parents. She was so used to not having any of her own to speak of that she didn’t find it at all unusual that he seemed to not have any either. He spoke of his grandfather often, and somehow, Alex made the mental leap that, perhaps, he was estranged from his parents as she was from hers. Alex was thrilled to learn that he was not, and she welcomed Marta into her life as warmly as Marta welcomed Alex into hers.
“You did bring your best reserve, Nicolas, sì?” Eva asked as Nicolas placed several bottles of red and white wine on the counter behind the bar.
“Of course, Eva.” He tried to hide his frustration. Eva had plenty of things to do to get ready for her cocktail party, but she had been following him around all afternoon like a shadow.
“What are these?” Eva picked up one of the pamphlets that Alex made and scrutinized it.
“Information about the vineyard.” Nicolas glanced up and then returned to arranging the bottles behind the bar.
“You have never done this before. Why are you doing it now? Do you not think it is distasteful to advertise your business to my guests?”
“No,” Nicolas stopped what he was doing and turned to face Eva. “It is customary for businesses who sponsor events to advertise. Unless you want to pay full price...”
Eva’s jaw twitched, and her eyes turned into daggers. “What do you mean ‘pay full price?’ I have never paid full price, and you have never brought these,” she held one of the pamphlets up over the bar and waved it in front of his face, “these advertisements to one of my parties.”
“Eva,” Nicolas reached across and took her hand, trying to appease her while holding firm. “You know that I am trying to expand our base, and I need to let potential clients know about the vineyard and how to purchase from us. Your guests are very connected, both here and in Los Angeles. If they like my wine, perhaps they will want to serve it at future parties, or use it on their sets. Imagine, my wine on an American movie set. Do you know what that could do for us, for our future?”
Just like that, Eva turned to putty in his hands. “Oh, Niki, darling,” she pulled him closer. “Sì, sì. For our future, you may do whatever you need.” She leaned across the bar, and wrapping her arms around his neck, kissed Nicolas in a way that would normally make his toes curl. And while his body did respond as would be expected, his mind was thinking about the creator of the pamphlets.
Over the course of the afternoon, Alex learned that Marta had been brought up on the vineyard and knew by the age of ten that she wanted nothing to do with it. Nicolas, on the other hand, always had a fondness for it and spent much of his youth helping his grandparents with the business and learning about making wine. He could tell a good reserve from a cheaper stock by the bouquet alone by the time he was twelve. Longing for a more exciting life for herself, Marta attended university in Florence, met her husband there, and never left. When Nicolas returned from school and saw that his grandfather was beginning to fail, as were most of his long-time employees, he invited his Florence cousins to come work with him at the vineyard. They had been there ever since, living in the homes that Nicolas had helped them to purchase. It was Nicolas who insisted that his youngest cousin, Maria, go to college, and he helped her through school and then hired her to manage the vineyard. Alex was amazed that she did not know all of this, but Marta was not.
“Nicolas is quite humble and does not trust easily. He is a businessman, but he has a good heart. And he is still a dreamer. He sees this old place much differently than I do,” she laughed. “He believes it will be a famous vineyard someday with wines in demand all over the world.”
“I think it can be,” Alex said. “Why not? Nicolas knows what he’s doing. He has the education as well as the love of the vineyard and all that it stands for in his mind. Maria is a whiz at management, and I hope that I can contribute as well. The vineyard’s logo is perfect, but it’s not universally recognized. We need to use it more. I’ve designed some brochures that I think will make it stand out and be remembered.” Alex stood up and walked to the kitchen counter. Picking up one of her designs, she went back to the couch and handed it to Marta. “I need to take some more pictures, but it’s a start.”
“This is good,” Marta said as she carefully assessed the brochure. “It is very good. You took these?” She pointed at the pictures.
“I did,” Alex nodded her head. “The print quality isn’t as good as it should be, because we did them in house, but once we have them professionally printed, I think they’ll look very nice. Nicolas took several with him to Eva’s, hoping that some of her guests might use us in the future.”
“I bet Eva will love that,” Marta said, under her breath. “The pictures, they have good composition, nice lighting. They look very professional. Do you have training?”
“I do,” Alex said and saw Marta in a whole new light. “I took classes in college. It was part of my major.”
Marta looked at Alex with surprise. “What did you study?”
“Fine Arts,” Alex said sheepishly. “I know, it doesn’t sound like a real major. Believe me, my mother told me that a hundred times, but I just love all of it – photography, art, music.” Alex stopped speaking when she noticed the way Marta was looking at her. The woman smiled and grabbed her hand.
“You and I, we are kindred spirits. I, too, love them all. My parents did not understand either. Michelangelo already painted the Sistine Chapel, Puccini and Vivaldi already composed musical masterpieces. What did I think I could do that has not already been done?”
Alex laughed and then had a thought. “The photographs on the wall in the vineyard. Are they yours?”
Marta chuckled and nodded. “From a long time ago. My father told me that if I was going to dream such silly dreams, then he should reap something from them.”
“I admired them the very first day I came. I was trying to achieve the same effects in mine.”
“We will go out this weekend and take pictures, sì?”
“Sì,” Alex agreed.
“So, tell me, has the elusive Eva been here much?”
“Eva? No, not really. But elusive? Why would you think that?”
“She is always elusive when I am here. You will see. She does not care for me, I believe.”
“How could she not like you?” Alex was amazed. Marta seemed so wonderful.
“Because she is not right for Nicolas, and she knows that I know that. But it is his decision. Who am I to tell a grown man how to live his life?”
Alex was surprised that Marta felt that way and even more surprised that she shared her feelings with a stranger, but they didn’t feel like strangers. Maybe it was because Marta looked so much like a younger Isabella, or maybe they truly were kindred spirits. Whatever it was, Alex felt an instant connection to the woman and suddenly felt sorry for Eva. She changed the subject and asked about Marta and Nicolas’ father. Marta was delightfully animated when she talked about her husband and their life in Florence.
When Alex showed Marta the journal and explained how she found it in the barn, Marta took the book carefully into her hands and caressed it with care. Gingerly opening it, she read a page and wiped away a tear began to trail down her cheek.
“She was such a wonderful woman,” Marta said as she reached for a tissue in the box on a nearby end table.
“She was,” Alex agreed. “I would have been lost without her.” Alex looked away and hoped that Marta wouldn’t press her for more information. She wasn’t sure she was ready to confide in Nicolas’ mother about her own tragic family story. As if sensing that Alex would rather talk about Signora, Marta made no comment about Alex’s family or her past. Instead she apologized.
“I should have gone to her funeral,” she said, her words filled with melancholy. “I loved her so much.”
Instinctively, Alex reached for Marta’s hand. “I’m sure she understood.” Alex offered a small smile. “She had a way of always seeing into a person’s heart.” Marta smiled back.
“You have a good heart yourself, Alex. I can sense it, and I am sure that my aunt could as well. Tell me about Zia Isabella. How did you meet her?”
Alex proceeded to tell Marta about the time she spent working for Signora, and Marta laughed at Alex’s stories and shared many of her own.
The women were still lost in conversation when Nicolas walked in that evening. Maria had already come in to say goodbye, and the two women had moved to the living room, then eventually back to the kitchen for a late afternoon snack of coffee and cookies. Bored and lonely the night before when Nicolas was squirreled away in his office, Alex had decided to bake. She was feeling lonely and longed for one of the comforts of the States, so she made good, old-fashioned chocolate chip cookies. Though she had to improvise on a few of the ingredients, she was pleased with their outcome, and Marta raved over how wonderful they were and how much they reminded her of her own time in America.
“Mamma,” Nicolas said warmly as he hugged his mother. “Have you told Alex all of the family secrets?”
“Not all of them,” his mother teased and winked at Alex.
They spent the evening together, and Nicolas thanked his mother for the excuse to miss Evangelina’s party.
“You could have gone. Why did you not?”
“I would rather be with you.” Nicolas smiled.
“Is that so?” she said with a conspiratorial glance toward Alex that caused the young woman to blush and look away. Marta then suggested they go out for the evening, and Alex was happy for the change in subject.
The weekend was a blur of activity. Marta and Alex spent a lot of time together taking pictures of the vineyard and getting to know each other better. Nicolas worked in the fields and the office but found himself looking out of the window quite often. He knew that his mother and Alex would become friends. He hated to admit it, but Alex reminded him of Marta from the start. He hesitated when his mother suggested she come for the weekend, but he had been avoiding Alex all week and was feeling guilty. She needed to feel like she belonged and had someone other than Maria to lean on, and he didn’t know if he was capable of being that person for her. Yes, he was capable, he admitted, but it was impossible. When Nicolas told Eva that he wasn’t staying for the party, she became furious. She was having a conniption that Alex was living at the villa and was pushing Nicolas to move onto the Lombardi family estate with her. It was a move that he was not ready for, and he couldn’t help but ask himself why. It did seem to be the obvious solution, and they had been talking about marriage for a while, but there was something about moving in with Eva that gave Nicolas an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He shook away his thoughts of Eva and watched Alex as she crouched down with her camera to get the right angle. His mother was talking and pointing, giving instructions like she was a master. He smiled at the way Alex frowned when she looked at the camera’s screen and her determination to keep shooting until she had the shot right. With her auburn hair pulled back from her face, and the tank top and shorts that she wore, she looked no more than eighteen. Nicolas found that endearing and forced himself to turn back to the paperwork in front of him.
Saturday evening, Nicolas invited Eva to have dinner with them.
“But darling,” Eva cooed into the phone, “why does Alex have to be there? We should have your madre to dinner here at the estate and let Alex enjoy time to herself.”
“Mamma likes Alex, and they have been working on new pictures for the vineyard.”
“Stop,” Eva commanded. “I do not care what they have been doing together. Your madre should be spending time with me.”
“Then come over tonight. Mamma wants to teach Alex a special recipe-”
“Basta!” Eva interrupted. “That is enough! If anyone is going to learn a special recipe from your madre, it is me.”
Nicolas tried to suppress his laughter. “Mio tesoro, sweetheart, you do not cook.”
“Then I will learn tonight.” Eva hung up the phone, and Nicolas stared at his cell in disbelief. Dinner was going to be quite interesting.
“Ahi!” Eva cried out in pain and pulled her hand away from the hot pot and raced to the sink. She ran her palm and fingers under cold water and watched a bright, red mark mar her perfect skin. Marta and Alex exchanged a look.
“Eva, dear, you must use a potholder to take the pot off of the stove. The handle gets very hot.” Marta smiled at Eva. Alex thought Marta looked genuinely concerned and gave her a lot of credit. She recalled what Marta had told her the previous day about Eva not being right for her son. Alex tried to picture these two women sharing Nicolas, but it was hard to imagine. Eva didn’t seem like the type to share anything.
“Sì, sì, you could have told me that before I touched it.” Eva didn’t attempt to hide her own feelings as she let the cold water run over her fingers. “One would think that the handle would be made to stay cool so that the pot could be easily lifted from the stove.”
“We are almost finished. You can sit down while Alex and I put the food on the table.”
“I think I will find Niki,” Eva said before turning off the water and hastily retreating from the room, grabbing a stream of paper towels and wrapping her hand as she went out of the door.
Alex couldn’t help herself. She burst into a fit of giggles. “I’m so sorry. Truly, I am. I know I shouldn’t laugh, but, but...” She took a deep breath and tried to stop laughing. “Oh my gosh! First, she cuts her finger with a knife, a tiny cut at that, and it was as if she needed to go the hospital. Then she burned the biscotti, and to top it off,” Alex began laughing again. “I’m such a horrible person,” she held her belly and put her hand over her mouth to stifle herself.
“Shh,” Marta put her finger on her smiling lips when they heard Nicolas and Eva’s voices growing louder. Alex turned to the sink and held her breath as she drained the water from the pasta, using a potholder to hold the pot.
Unbelievably, Eva took credit for most of the meal, including the dessert which Alex managed to salvage by scraping the bottoms of with a knife, much like she used to do in college when using their ancient and unreliable toaster.
After she left, Nicolas turned to his mother and Alex. “So,” he began, the corners of his mouth twitching and his eyes sparkling, “Eva turned out to be quite the cook?”
Alex smiled at Marta. “Oh, she was ‘quite the cook’ all right.”
“Sì,” Marta agreed. “Quite the cook.”
“Is there some thing, some story, I do not know?” Nicolas was clearly amused, no doubt his imagination running wild at the thought of Eva cooking.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Alex told him. “When you’re married, I’m sure you will be amazed by Eva’s culinary skills. She winked at Marta and took a seat on the sofa. “Shall we?” she asked as she picked up the journal.
“Sì, I am very curious to hear what Nicolas thinks about the journal.” Marta gently took the book from Alex and turned it over in her hands. “I do not remember ever seeing this. You never saw it, Nicolas?”
“No,” he shook his head. “Not until Alex showed it to me. She found it in the loft.”
“Si,” Alex agreed. “As I told you earlier, I found it when I first arrived. Nicolas and I haven’t gotten very far, but it’s fascinating. We’ve really only just started reading, but I already see that there was so much about Signora that I never knew.”
“Zia Isabella,” Marta said wistfully. “How I loved her.”
“You knew her well?” Nicolas asked in surprise.
“Very well. I have been to her home in Baltimore. When I finished at university, Nonno and Nonna sent me to stay with her for a little while so that I could see some of the world. I almost stayed....” She closed her eyes and sighed, a slow smile curling on her lips. Alex had the impression that there was something Marta was not sharing.
“Why did you come back?” Nicolas asked, and Marta quickly opened her eyes as if she’d been startled into coming back to the present.
“I was to marry your papà. He was waiting for me. And Florence is where my heart is, where it has always been.” Alex thought she noticed something in the way Marta answered, a look in her eyes, or a catch in her voice. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
Marta returned her attention to the journal and smiled. “So, Zia Isabella has not told any family secrets has she?”
“Not yet,” Alex said, “unless you count her secret love for Roberto.”
“Oh, that is not so secret. Zia Isabella was married to Zio Roberto for a very long time. I think it was only secret because of the war. Zia was very young, and she did not know if Roberto would return, so she did not tell. Love is a very serious thing during a war.” Marta looked at Nicolas. “And even when there is not a war.”
Nicolas looked away, but Alex noticed a red flush creep up his neck toward his face. Trying not to make things uncomfortable, Alex decided it was time to leave Nicolas and his mother alone. She bid Nicolas and Marta a good night and retreated to her room.
“She is beautiful, no?” Marta asked after Nicolas watched Alex go upstairs and disappear into the dark, upper hallway. “Inside and out.”
Nicolas shrugged. “She is pleasing to look at and be around.” Marta looked at her son for several seconds, but she remained silent.
“Tell me about Papà,” Nicolas said. “Is he well? I wish he could have come with you.”
“So do I,” Marta sighed. “I will make him come with me the next time. He cannot spend his entire life working in his uffizi.”
Marta and Nicolas talked for a little while longer before saying goodnight and heading to bed.
On Sunday, the family dinner was held at the villa, and Alex and Marta went all out with their scrumptious meal. Eva had begged off, saying she was worn out from the previous night. Smiling, Nicolas ended the call and shook his head. He had to admit that it was probably for the best. His mother got along with Alex better than she ever had with Eva. For some reason, the thought amused him. When he walked his mother to her car after dinner, he found himself glad that Eva hadn’t returned for another dinner, though he couldn’t explain why.
“It could be like this every day, my son,” Marta motioned to the cheery sounds coming from the house. “Maria says that you and Eva may be talking marriage.”
“Mamma, stop,” Nicolas told her. “Eva and I are talking about the future, but I do not know when we will get married.”
“So, you are planning on marrying her.” It was a statement rather than a question.
“Si, when the time is right.”
“And when will that be? You’ve been seeing each other for a very long time.”
“I do not know, Mamma. I am so busy now trying to build the business. I am teaching Alex what to do, and I do not have time to plan a wedding.”
“Nicolas, you and I both know that Eva has had her wedding planned since the day she was born. I do not think there would be much for you to do. Or perhaps, there is some reason you do not wish to marry Eva?”
Nicolas looked at his mother. “What do you mean? I have many reasons. I am a busy man. Eva will want lots of parties before the wedding and then a honeymoon. I do not have time for that now.”
“And your feelings have nothing to do with Alex?”
Nicolas knew that his mother was always able to see through him. He could never hide anything from her, but this time, she was wrong. He didn’t have any feelings for Alex other than as a friend and partner.
“I am glad you like Alex, and I am fond of her, but as you see, she is my business partner, nothing more. You said yourself, I have been with Eva for a long time. She is right for me.”
“I do not see what you see,” she told him. “Sì, you and Eva have been together for quite some time, but that does not mean that she is right for you. Ask yourself, my son, who you want to wake up next to each morning, who is going to care about you and your life, your business, your family? Be sure before you make up your mind.”
“Thank you, Mamma, for your concern. I am quite certain what I want.” he said before changing the subject. “I am very happy you came. Please give my love to Papà.”
“Sì, figlio mio, lo farò” she said. “Yes, my son, I will.” She sounded defeated, and Nicolas felt a pang of guilt. He kissed her goodbye and closed the door after she got into her car. He watched her leave then turned back toward the house. The night sky was clear and abundantly filled with stars. He could hear the laughter coming from the house and wondered, just for a moment, what it would be like to raise his children here on the vineyard with Alex by his side as his mother seemed to be suggesting. Guiltily, he pushed the thought from his mind. He was a planner, an organized man who saw his entire life laid out ahead of him. He knew nothing about Alex and everything about Eva. Maybe that was the problem. Alex was new and intriguing, while Eva was the same girl he had always known. Certainly that caused some unrest in his mind, some wandering thoughts about the unknown. But he could change that. He would get to know Alex, and once she was no longer a mystery to him, he could get back to normal.
January 8, 1943
For a week now, I have wrestled with my feelings. I am conflicted about what I have done, the promise I have made. Who is this boy who has gone off to war? Does he truly believe in what the Germans and Italians are doing, or was he commanded to go? Who is this man to whom I have promised my heart? I feel as if he's a ghost, an elusive creature I cannot feel or touch or take measure of. I do not know what I have gotten myself into. I have become like a ghost myself, thin and pale, pacing the house at night, unable to rest.
––––––––
“How sad,” Alex said. It was Monday evening, and Nicolas was no longer avoiding her, at least not this night. The weekend seemed to have broken the ice, and Alex was happy to be back by his side, reading Isa’s words from the past.
“I can see her worry,” Nicolas said. “She really does not know this man, but she is drawn to him. Does she love him or the idea of him? Will he come back, and what will he be like when she gets to know him better? What are the things she does not know about him? It is very confusing.” Alex turned and looked at Nicolas with curiosity. Why did he not sound like he was talking about Isa and Roberto?
Nicolas seemed to read her thoughts. “It was a very confusing time for everyone, the War and what havoc it would bring.”
Alex thought about that. “How did the Italian people feel about the War? Did they want to fight alongside the Germans?”
Nicolas shook his head. “Many, perhaps most, did not. In fact, when the Italian soldiers heard that Mussolini was deposed, most of the men laid down their weapons and went home.” He looked at her to be sure she understood. “I mean, they laid them down, in the streets, in the fields, and went home. They were done.”
“Wow,” Alex said. “I had no idea. Was that at the end of the War?”
“Oh, no. It was in the middle and just the beginning of the War here in Italy. In the summer of 1943, the Italians just stopped fighting. Hitler ordered the German soldiers to enter the country and take it over. It was a dangerous time here for everyone. The Americans and British did not know whom to trust. They bombed the cities. There was a great deal of effort made to preserve the antiquities, but it did not always happen, and the Italians refused to help identify buildings and items of importance at first because they did not know who they could trust.
“The Germans were telling the people that the Americans wanted to destroy the cities and steal the art, and the Americans were saying the same of the Germans. Alas, we know now what the truth was. The Nazis butchered whole towns and cities and took the treasures with them. A great resistance took place, but in the German occupied cities, the resistance fighters were in great danger. We are very lucky to still have the treasures and buildings that we have. Many of our cities, including Florence and Pisa, were devastated by the American bombings and by German explosions. A few cities were completely destroyed.”
Alex couldn’t imagine such devastation. She was a child when 9/11 took place, and that was limited in its destruction. She couldn’t fathom widespread bombing of entire cities the likes of New York and Washington. And to think that ancient cities, like Pisa and Florence, were not spared was appalling.
“Do you think any of that affected Isa? Why did she leave? Was it because of the War?”
“As I have said. It is not something that my family talked about. Perhaps we will find the answer.” He motioned to the journal and turned the page.
January 10, 1943
Papà is up to something. I do not know what. Unable to sleep at night, I find myself at the window a lot, sometimes staring at the stars, other times watching for Roberto to return, to beckon me to the loft. Last night, I thought I saw him coming out of the barn. My breath caught in my throat, and I nearly threw open the window and called out to him. Then I saw that it was not Roberto, and he was not alone. Papà came out of the barn with a group of men. Some of them I know from town, but others I did not recognize. What were they doing in there in the middle of the night?
At breakfast, I asked Papà if he had slept well last night. He looked at me strangely and then turned back to his newspaper. As I finished eating and got ready for school, I saw him looking at me again. Had he seen me in the window last night, hiding behind the drapery in the dark? Does he know that I saw him? I feel it best to let it go and not ask him again, but I know that is not in my nature. It will eat at me until I discover the truth.